


A Visit to Vengerberg

by britsmit28



Series: The Trissefer Collection [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sex Toys, Snowed In, Strained Friendships, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 10:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britsmit28/pseuds/britsmit28
Summary: On a snowy, cold night, Yennefer receives an unexpected call from Triss Merigold, a woman she hasn't seen in nearly three years. Forced to share shelter as a snowstorm blows through the city, the two women make amends and rekindle their friendship. But during that first night, Yennefer hears a strange sound from Triss' room that forces them to reconsider their relationship.





	1. A Late Night Call

A knock on the door pulls Yennefer’s attention away from the book she halfway through. She folds the top corner of the page, sets the book on the table next to her chair and rises. A small fire pops and crackles in the stone fireplace, filling the room with a soft warmth. There is another knock on the door, more incessant that the first. A royal messenger, she thought as she stretches her arms. Yennefer glances outside at the falling snowflakes. A storm is heading to Vengerberg, a powerful system coming down from the Blue Mountains that would bury the city in several feet of snow. No doubt the person currently knocking is feeling a chill in their bones and craved any warmth they could find.

“Just a minute,” Yennefer calls as she enters the hall. She searches for a coin purse, finding one in her study across the way and counts out several ducats, more than she usually tips, but the person is delivering their message in the snow.

Yennefer opens the door just as the person is about to knock again. She’s stunned, unable to address the person before her as she takes in the sight of bright red hair, a shock against the white, snowy background.

“Triss?” she whispers. “W-what are you doing here?”

The younger sorceress blows warm air into her hands before answering. She’s bundled up tight, wearing traveling clothing that look stiff and frozen on her frame. A thick, fur coat is wrapped around her shoulders, but she still shivers at the cold.

“Can I come in?”

Remembering herself, Yennefer steps to the side, allowing Triss to shuffle inside and away from the snow. “Welcome to my home,” she says, though it’s not the first time her friend has visited Vengerberg. She examines Triss, frowning at the frost covering the hem of her coat and around her riding gloves. Her cheeks and nose are flushed from the cold. “Come. I have a fire going and I’ll make you something warm to drink.”

She guides Triss back to the small library and tells her to get warm in front of the fire. Then she heads to the kitchen, her mind racing as she treads down the hall.

The last time she and Triss had spoken to one another was three years ago after the final battle with the Wild Hunt. There was a small gathering, something to celebrate the end of what had been a tumultuous and deadly journey for Yennefer and her dearest friends. Like usual, she hung back from the gathering, never truly comfortable around large crowds, even if the people surrounding her were associates she had known for years. She observed everyone, her gaze softening anytime she glanced in Ciri’s direction. Though Geralt always earned a glare. And Triss was around, floating from conversation to conversation like the social butterfly she was.

Back then, Yennefer was confused about her feelings towards her friend. She wasn’t even sure she could label their relationship as such. Though they had reconciled and got their revenge on Geralt at the Kingfisher, Yennefer had a hard time trusting Triss. But her anger had dampened significantly since that night, so she made an attempt at being friendlier towards the young sorceress. And they parted on good terms after that night, promising to stay in contact with each other. But Yennefer never sent any letters, nor did she receive any.

She warms a kettle of water and places loose-leaf tea into mugs, which she places on a tray, along with milk and a cup of sugar cubes. When the water is warm, she puts it next to the other items and carries it back into the library. Triss is still in front of the fire, her hands extended towards the flames. Her coat and gloves are folded over the back of the far sofa. Yennefer frowns, imagining water dropping onto the wooden floor and rug, but she doesn’t say anything. Now that Triss is free of her coat, Yennefer sees she’s wearing riding pants and a loose shirt that’s stuffed into her pants. Flimsy clothing, certainly not suitable for traveling through a storm.

“Feeling any better?” she asks, setting the tray down and pouring water into the two mugs.

Triss turns away from the fireplace, a soft smile on her face. “Yes, plenty. Thank you.” She accepts the tea, pouring in milk and adding two sugar cubes. Yennefer’s surprised she takes her drinks so sweet.

“It’s good to see you,” Triss says. She’s testing the water, Yennefer realizes.

“It’s good to see you too. It’s been too long.”

“Yes, it has.” Triss looks down at her feet. “Would have been longer if the storm hadn’t force me to stop.”

Right, the storm, Yennefer thinks. “I guess it’s safe to ask my earlier question. What are you doing here?”

Triss opens her mouth, then closes it and walks over to the window. Yennefer notices her shoulders have tensed, rising slightly to her ears.

“I was on my way from Toussaint,” she says slowly.

“Visiting Geralt?” Yennefer waits to feel something. She’s thought so little of the man she once believed was her true love over these past few years. He’s sent letters. She never responded. Didn’t even open them. Just tossed them into the fire or used her magic to destroy it. What little she knew, she learned from Ciri whenever she visited. Geralt was gifted a winery, Corvo Bianco, which he managed when he could.

“Yes,” Triss admits. “He invited me to visit his estate. It’s nice there. Colorful. Warm. You would like it there.”

“Hm…I’m sure.”

Triss spins on her heel and looks at Yennefer. They're both defensive. Guarded. But there is a desire to restart their friendship, have things go back to how it was before Geralt forced his way between them.

“In any case, I was trying to reach Novigrad to return home, but I was turned around in the storm. And I would have stayed at an inn, but they’re all packed.”

Yennefer feels a pang of guilt that Triss sought out other shelter before coming to her home. No matter what happened between them, she would have gladly welcomed her.

“You’re free to stay here until it’s safe to travel again,” Yennefer says. Triss smiles at her, finally relaxing as she perches on the edge of the sofa.

“How have you been?”

Yennefer smiles and runs a hand through her thick black curls. “Triss, you know I was never one for small talk.”

The sorceress blushes and turns away. “I know. I just…I guess I want to make sure you’re okay. It’s been three years. And a lot happened the last time we saw each other.”  
Yennefer flashes back to the Kingfisher. To Geralt laying on the bed. Triss dressed in lingerie, twirling around the room, trying to excite him, which is easy to do. The thought is brief, barely registering in Yennefer’s mind. But Triss is beautiful. Dazzling, really. And Yennefer almost, almost feels inadequate. But they both felt that way and that’s why they wanted revenge on the witcher.

Then they’re all on the bed and lilac eyes connect with cornflower blue, a silent message passing through them. And Triss leans in first. Yennefer sees from the corner of her eye Geralt smirking, amused by what’s about to happen and she wants to play her part, play it well. So she leans over, capturing Triss’ lips in a kiss that the younger sorceress deepens instantly. Forgetting herself, Yennefer moans into her friend’s mouth. But it’s over soon enough and it had the desired effect. Geralt is hard, grinning like the wolf he always was.

Yennefer licks her lips and remembers they’re there for a reason and she and Triss carry out the rest of their plan, clinking their wine glasses together as Geralt bucks against the chains. And as they dress, leave the inn, Yennefer is certain their brief kiss was only significant to her alone. Back then, she didn’t understand why it affected her so. Even now, she’s not sure why she thinks about the softness of Triss’ lips or the hints of green in those cornflower blue eyes.

Yennefer settles into her seat and crosses her legs. She notices Triss tracking the motion. “It’s behind us now,” Yennefer says. “You’re here, this storm doesn’t seem to be letting up and I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Famished. I almost ran out of supplies.”

“You always packed light.” Yennefer chuckles and finishes her drink.

“I manage to survive,” Triss says, her smile widening.

Yennefer stands and clears away their mugs. “I’ll start dinner now before you pass out on me.”

Using enchantments, Yennefer prepares a roast with rice, steamed carrots and a savory yogurt for the meat. She opens a bottle of Kedweni wine and they sit down to a nice meal. With the wine loosening their tongues, the conversation flows freely and an ease settles over them. Triss talks about adventures traveling from court to court, seeking royal favor and doing the occasional odd job for poor villagers. Yennefer for her part, lives a much quieter life, relying on the money she earned in her youth to sustain the lifestyle she was used to.

“You’re not bored?” Triss asks.

They finished dinner, washed the dishes and were now once again in front of the fireplace. Yennefer tossed in several logs as Triss sat on the floor and opened another bottle of wine, their third of the evening.

“No, it’s nice,” Yennefer says. “I wake when I choose, lounge around my house and sometimes venture out into the city. Sometimes some monarch will calls on me. But I have time for my studies for once in a long time. If I get bored, I’m free to catch a show or go to another city.”

Triss stretches out on her back, clasping her hands on her stomach. Yennefer shifts her body so she can better see her friend.

“What about company?” Triss says. “Do you get lonely?”

“Not often.”

“But it does happen?”

“Sometimes,” Yennefer admits. It surprised her. She was used to traveling on her own. She was comfortable being by herself. But her home is large, most of the rooms empty save for furniture. She goes days, sometimes weeks without speaking to another person. The only person to visit frequently is Ciri, but those visits are always unannounced, unpredictable. And she’s in contact with members of the Lodge, though those conversations are few and far between.

“I’ve thought about getting a cat,” Yennefer says, her voice a tease.

Triss chuckles. “I could see it.”

Yennefer finishes her glass of wine and lays on her side, propping her elbow on the floor and laying her head in her open palm. For a moment, she watches the slow rise and fall of Triss’ chest. Then her eyes flicker up to her friend’s face, tracing the soft rounded edges of her jaw, before moving to her full lips that glistened with a thin layer of gloss, then travel up her small nose, finally landing on those cornflower blue eyes that focus on the ceiling.

“What about you? Do you get lonely out there?”

Triss looks at her from the corner of her eye before staring at the wooden beams above and crosses her legs at the ankle. She hummed as she thinks. “Sometimes. More often than I’d like. When it’s overwhelming, I try to stop in a city searching for a festival or to see a friendly face.” Triss carefully slides her eyes back over to Yennefer’s face.

The older sorceress wants to laugh. Not at what Triss said, but at what they’re both admitting. What happened to them? They were once feared and venerated by monarchs and commoners. People wrote from faraway places seeking their advice or magical abilities. They had both been involved in influential wars or political schemes, sometimes even changing the entire course of history. Now they were living in retirement, in Yennefer’s case, or aimlessly roaming the lands, popping into cities whenever they pleased.

They were now living that steady, boring life Yennefer was afraid of falling into. Though she didn’t seem to mind it most days.

“We’re pitiful,” Triss says, her entire body shaking as she laughs.

Yennefer smiles. “Perhaps. But it could be worse.”

Triss sits up and swivels to face her friend. She glances at the window over Yennefer’s shoulder, her smile thinning. “It’s really coming down out there.” They can hear the heavy snowfall and the windows shake as a violent wind whips through the streets. The roof groans as more and more snow fall on the shingles.

It’s late. Yennefer yawns into her hand, sleepy from the warm food and wine in her stomach and the fire that’s heating the room. “I think I’ll head to bed now,” she says. “There are plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you.”

Yennefer climbs the stairs to the second level, makes a right to her bedroom at the end of the hall and cracks the door behind her. She fills the tub with warm water, scented oils and crystals, undresses and bathes before dressing for bed. She hears the floor creak in the hall as Triss walks up the stairs and selects a room adjacent to Yennefer’s. Then it’s silent once more.  
The covers are a warm embrace as she climbs into bed and draws the sheets and blankets to her chin. She’s on the edge of sleep immediately and her breathing evens out. Her dreams are short flashes of past encounters with friends, associates, former lovers. Some are happy occurrences, some are sad, one even brings tears to her eyes, shocking her awake.

Yennefer sits up, the covers falling down her body and she wipes the corners of her eyes. Then she takes a deep breath, exhaling through her mouth.

She freezes as she hears a strange noise, like a strangled cry. Tiptoeing out the bed towards the crack in her bedroom door. She turns her ear towards the small gap and listens. Her hand flies to her mouth and a furious blush spreads from her cheeks, down her neck to her cleavage as she realizes the sound is a soft gasp, which is immediately followed up by low moan and a strangled cry.

“Yenna…”

She steps back from the door and shuts it. She no longer hears Triss, but she can imagine it clear in her mind.

Her name from Triss’ mouth in a whisper. She knew what was happening in the other bedroom, what Triss was doing to herself. She didn’t mind the activity. She’d change the sheets later.

But to hear her name come from her friend’s mouth was a shock. In a daze, Yennefer climbs back into bed and shuts her eyes. But she still hears it in her mind. A moan. A gasp.

“Yenna…”

She flops onto her back and sighs. She tries to force herself to shut her eyes and fall asleep, but her mind is against her, conjuring vivid images much to her dismay. Images of bare breast flush and covered in a light layer of sweat, the nipples exposed to the air and hard, aching to be sucked. Long legs with Triss’ juices dripping down the pale skin and two pale finger pumping into her folds, working faster and faster as the young sorceress gets close to her orgasm. And over it all, the sound of Yennefer’s name filling the air.

“Yenna…”

Maybe she didn’t mind at all what was happening on the other side of the wall.


	2. The Morning After

It’s hard for Yennefer to look Triss in the eye the next day. She’s afraid Triss will be able to see the truth: that Yennefer heard her as she masturbated, that she then spent most of the night after that imagining different scenarios, each one more scintillating and detailed than the last, before she could no longer stand the ache between her own legs. She pleasured herself that night, keeping images of Triss as far from her fantasies as she could, though it made it harder for her to find the relief she craved. Exhausted, she fell asleep, only to dream about her and Triss in a large bed. And when she awoke that morning, her bed was wet from an orgasm she had in her sleep. She ripped the covers from her bed, opened a portal and launched her bed to some unknown destination.

She needed to distract her hands and mind, so after dressing, she comes into the kitchen and starts to prepare breakfast.

“Mmm, it smells wonderful in here,” Triss says as she enters the room about twenty minutes later. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Yennefer says, though it’s strained. She could almost hear her name coming from her friend’s mouth.

Triss comes to stand next to her, peering over her shoulder into the bowl where Yennefer is whipping eggs. “Whatcha making?” Surprised, Yennefer jumps and steps back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Yennefer lies, adding some grounded herbs to the eggs. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m just a little jittery. And I’m making omelets for us.”

“I’m sorry. Can I do anything for you?”

She sees it from the corner of her eye: Triss reaching out to touch her shoulder. Yennefer wonders if that’s the hand that brought her friend pleasure last night or if she used the other. She blushes and turns away, pretending to need more seasoning. Triss’ hand falls back to her side.

“I’ll feel better after I eat. It should be ready soon if you’d like to freshen up beforehand.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Triss says and leaves the room. Yennefer waits until she hears Triss moving around upstairs, before setting the mixing bowl down and taking a deep breath. Overnight, Vengerberg was buried in about a foot of snow and it was still coming down hard. They would be trapped in here for another day or two at the very least. And while her home was large, she couldn’t spend those days trying to avoid her friend.

She tries to convince herself it didn’t matter if Triss pleasured herself to the image of Yennefer. Sexual dalliances were common among sorcerers and sorceresses. Yennefer herself had encounters with powerful mages in the past, very nearly marrying a man she loved deeply. And there was that one night with Philippa that both women swore to never recount to another soul.

It wouldn’t be a lie to say she thought about Triss in a similar way once or twice before. All of the women of the Lodge were beautiful, breathtaking, captivating, worthy of admiration, both open and secretive. Even when she was with Geralt, Yennefer wondered what it would feel like to lay with Kiera or Margarita or Francesca or Triss. Something told her she would be most sexually compatible with Kiera or Triss, but she never acted on those feelings, fearing it would put her in a vulnerable state that could easily be exploited later. (Which is why she still beats herself up about sleeping with Philippa years ago.)

Now that she was mostly retired, Yennefer didn’t have those worries. No one would twist her arm later or force her to act as a political pawn among king and queens. She could just enjoy sex and enjoy whoever she slept with. That’s why she was afraid of thinking too hard over last night. Because it wouldn’t be simple sex with Triss. They could never have that, not after their past with Geralt. She believed it would be too complicated, too heavy with latent jealousy and anger. 

She wished she never heard Triss last night. Wished she didn’t know she was part of Triss’ sexual fantasies. Wished she wasn’t intrigued by the idea of Triss pressing her lips to Yennefer’s body as she caressed her. Because she knew this was more than an interest in sex. It was something deeper. It was a chance at no longer feeling lonely and that terrified Yennefer.

She tussles her hair, sighing and tells herself to focus. She turns back to the omelets and pours part of the batter into a deep skillet.

“Triss, breakfast is almost ready,” she shouts up the stairs.

“Be there soon.”

The other sorceress returns to the kitchen just as Yennefer plates two perfectly cooked omelets. “I didn’t know you were a skilled cook,” Triss says as she sits at the counter.

“Skilled? No. I have a few recipes that are my go-to. But I expand my repertoire when I have guest.”

“Lucky me.”

Yennefer pours a glass of apple juice for them and sits across from Triss, sliding the glass across the counter. “Sorry about earlier. Like I said, I struggled to sleep last night.”

“Don’t apologize. I know I interrupted your routine.”

“It’s not that.” Entirely, she adds mentally. “I sometimes have dreams of past events. It startles me awake occasionally.”

Triss looks down at her plate. “I understand. I dream about Sodden some nights.” Yennefer shivers at the mention of that battle and the time after that she spent in complete darkness. She heard Triss had been horrifically burned during the battle and there was still scarring that would never heal. Her vision had been stolen from her before Triss fell and a part of her was glad for it because she didn’t want the image of her friend begin consumed in flames to be the last thing she saw before being blinded.

“That’s something I’ll never miss,” Triss says. Yennefer looks at her. “Witnessing the full destructive capabilities of magic.”

Yennefer thins her lips into a straight line. “There’s a dualism to everything Triss. It helps maintain balance. There’s no creation without destruction.”

“You sound like Tissaia.”

“Arteza drilled some useful information in me.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Triss says. “But what did we create, Yen? More instability? More uncertainty for the common people? There was certainly more death. I guess…did we do good? I keep asking myself that.”

Yennefer reaches across the table and grasps the back of Triss’ hand. It’s sweaty and trembles, but is unsurprisingly soft. “You helped countless mages escape the horrors of the Church of the Eternal Flame. You helped save Ciri twice when the Wild Hunt was on us. And you always keep poultices and potions for the common people to use. You’ve done good things. You’ve helped create beauty in this world.”

She’s shocked by the vulnerability in those blue eyes. “And if you go anywhere near Sodden now,” Yennefer continues, “someone will talk to you about the ‘Fourteen of the Hill’ and the one that rose.”

Triss turns her hand over until their palms touch and stretches her fingers touching Yennefer’s wrist. “Thank you. Gods this is not how I wanted our reunion to go.”

“Really? How did you imagine it?”

They lock eyes and Yennefer’s mouth runs dry at the concealed hunger in her friend’s eyes. Triss pulls her hand back first, placing it in her lap. A thought crosses her face and she grins.

“I thought we’d drink a lot more wine.”

Yennefer laughs. “I guess we can have a bottle with our meal.”

They finish the bottle from last night and their meal. Triss convinces Yennefer to let her clear the table and wash the dishes. The older sorceress heads into her study to work. She’s in the process of tidying her artifacts and donating some to schools that would make better use of it than she would. Triss pokes her head in, offering to assist, but Yennefer turns down her offer.

“I’m mentally mapping things out for now,” she says. “I’ll call you when I start moving things around, though it likely won’t happen for another day or two.”

Triss disappears into the library, leaving Yennefer to work in silence. Yennefer adjusts to another presence in her home easily. She starts to enjoy the faint noises Triss makes, like tossing another log in the fire to keep it alive or humming to herself as she settles on a couch. Sometimes, the younger sorceress pops into the study, asking if Yennefer would like a drink or encouraging her to take a short break to rest her eyes.

Around midday, she enters the room with a tray in her hand. Yennefer doesn’t realize she’s hungry until the sandwich is placed in front of her.

“Thank you,” she says before taking a small bite. Triss smiles and starts to leave. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“You’re busy. I’ll join you for dinner. I’m cooking of course,” she says.

Yennefer nods. “Looking forward to it.”

Triss’ cheeks turn a light shade of pink and she slips out into the hall. After eating, Yennefer is refreshed and returns to her work with renewed energy. She takes a break after two hours, needing to relieve herself. She decides to wander to the library before going back to her tasks. And she wants to compliment Triss on the sandwich.

A soft smile graces her lips as she spots the younger woman curled up on the sofa, a book face down across her lap. Her mouth’s parted and a soft snore escapes. Strands of red hair covers her face and Yennefer uses a finger to tuck it back behind her ear. A shiver travels through the sleeping woman and Yennefer goes in search of a thick quilt to cover her.

Outside the snow fall has slowed to a few, small flakes. It reaches the bottom of the window and Yennefer imagines she will have to use force to open the front door. But that’s a worry for another day. She returns to the study and her work, consumed by her thoughts of decluttering until she hears the telltale sign of Triss waking and heading to the kitchen.

Then she stops her work, swings her legs on top of her wooden desk and rocks in her chair. She starts to think about last night and about Triss. Yennefer wasn’t sure what to do. She could pretend she was ignorant to what happened. She was successful in that regard so far. But she was afraid she would slip up, say something that revealed the truth. Then what would she do? How would Triss respond?

It was just a silly fantasy, Yennefer tells herself. A small affair in Triss’ mind. She wasn’t sure why she was fixated on it? Why she thought it could be more? Why she wanted it to mean more?

Triss knocks on the study’s door. “You’re still hard at work,” she says.

Yennefer shakes her head. “I was preoccupied by something else.”

“Well, dinner is ready.”

“I’ll be there in a moment.” When the door is closed again, Yennefer lowers her head and exhales. “Fuck,” she whispers.


	3. A Plea To Stay

After two more days cooped up inside the house, Yennefer and Triss finally take a trip out into the city. The cobbled streets are mostly empty, though footfalls in the snow hint that people were around. Triss slips into her fur coat, while Yennefer clasps a heavy cloak just under her chin. They didn’t plan to stay out long. Just long enough to stretch their legs and to resupply the shelves in Yennefer’s pantry.

“I should get some supplies too,” Triss says. Yennefer closes the front door and turns to face her friend. “If the weather continues to clear, I can leave in about two days.”

A bubble fills Yennefer’s throat. She’s been dreading this moment. She wished another storm would sweep in overnight, burying them in more snow that wouldn’t melt for weeks.

She and Triss had settled into a routine, starting their days off with a shared breakfast before heading to different parts of the house. Normally, she hated being interrupted while she worked, but she looked forward to seeing a shock of red hair peeking into the study and hearing Triss’ melodious voice as she asked if she needed anything. Sometimes Triss would linger, starting a conversation that went nowhere, but pleased Yennefer all the same. They lunched together in the middle of the day and Yennefer would go to the library to sit by the fire. At some point, Triss would start dinner and after their meal, they’d open a bottle of wine and enjoy the shared company.

Then night would come. Yennefer was forced to sleep in a spare bedroom until she could purchase a replacement for the bed she teleported earlier in the week. She slept further away from Triss’ room and felt safer being a bit more vocal as she pleasured herself. She no longer fought against Triss’ presence in her sexual fantasies. There was an image in particular that always sent her over the edge: Triss hovering over her, her hands snaked between Yennefer’s legs, her fingers twisting in and out of her as she cooed at Yennefer to come for her. When she was spent, she’d collapse on the bed, trying to catch her breath. Her fantasies were so vivid, she sometimes thought she’d see Triss lying next to her. But the space was always empty.

Yennefer considered saying something. Taking a chance, at the risk of embarrassment and vulnerability. But she struggled to read Triss. There were times she felt those blue eyes on her, tracking her movement, tracing the outlines of her body, focusing on her curves. Triss would brush her hands against her body, sending shocks through Yennefer.

But just as soon as she was certain Triss was testing the waters, the younger sorceress would mention returning to Novigrad, the city she now claimed as her own, even if it was still dangerous for mages. And she seemed eager to get back there. To leave Yennefer behind.

“Yes, there are some shops you can visit,” Yennefer says now, trying to keep the emotion out her voice. Triss starts to say something, but the older sorceress takes the lead, putting about a foot between them, ending the conversation. She knows she’s retreating to her old, bad habits, failing to communicate when she desperately needs to. She and Geralt were plagued with many, many problems, but underlaying it all was their inability to properly communicate with one another. To openly express their feelings. To be vulnerable with each other. It’s the one thing she regrets about their history. Maybe things would have been better, less hurtful if they had only spoken to each other.

Yennefer didn’t want to repeat that mistake. She slowed until she and Triss were shoulder to shoulder.

“I’ve enjoyed having you in my home,” she says slowly. She fidgets with the end of her belt, pretending to tighten it around her waist.

“I enjoy staying with you,” Triss says. “Wish I visited more often.”

She has to look Triss in the eyes, to let her know she’s serious. “What if you stayed longer? Rest for a few more days?”

“To fight off the loneliness?” Triss offers.

Yennefer remembers their conversation from that first night. The loneliness they both experienced now that they weren’t called on by friends or royal officials. That’s not entirely why she wants Triss to stay, but she knew her friend was kind-hearted and would stay if it would help Yennefer.

“Yes.”

Triss smiles. “Vengerberg is a lovely place. I’d love to stay a bit longer.”

Relief washes over Yennefer and she smiles so hard that her cheeks start to hurt. Triss knocks shoulders with her and it feels like their old friendship. But there’s something more underneath and Yennefer wants to fully latch onto it.

They stop at a grocer and purchase food to restock the stores they already consumed. Triss purchases two cases of wine to be delivered later in the day. Then they walk aimlessly through the streets. Yennefer points out building of interest. They stand in front of the Vengerburg Castle, marveling at the tall stone towers, topped with ornately decorated golden spires. When they’re finished, Yennefer takes them to the gardens just off from the castle.

“I may never leave,” Triss jokes as they walk down a path.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

The corner of Triss lips turn up in a smile. At the end of the path is a tall, strong oak that stands out against the white snow. Both women feel the magic radiating from it, begging to be used. Yennefer walks forward, her boots crunching against untouched snow. Triss trails her. They walk to the trunk and Yennefer holds out a hand to touch the rough bark. Triss leans against it and watches her friend.

“This is my favorite place,” Yennefer says. “For no particular reason. I just love this tree. It’s stood for centuries and will stand for centuries more.”

“It’s beautiful,” Triss says.

“You’re not even looking at it.”

Triss glances at it from the corner of her eye and stares at Yennefer again. The other woman snorts and laughs. “We can head back if you’re bored.”

“I’m not bored,” Triss says. “I’m enjoying this.”

Yennefer is enjoying it too. The proximity of Triss is intoxicating. It takes great restraint to not lean in and kiss her on the lips, pin her against the tree and give into those fantasies that consumed Yennefer’s mind for the past week. She licks her lips and swears Triss scoots closer.

They both turn at the sound of movement behind them. A castle guard rounds the corner, squints in their direction and adjusts the sword on his hip. The gardens are open to the public, but chances are the sorceresses are the first visitors to arrive in days. Triss looks at Yennefer, who jerks her head in the direction of the exit. The guard continues his rounds, glancing over his shoulder to look at them one final time.

There’s an alehouse close by and Yennefer asks if Triss would like to pop in for a drink. It’s virtually empty and the women grab a table close to the back where they won’t be disturbed. It makes them look conspiratorial, but they don’t care. They order a platter of sliced meats, cheese and olives and whiskey mixed with warm tea.

“Do you visit here often?” Triss asks, glancing around.

“They have good pies.”

Triss scratches her knee and her fingers brush against Yennefer’s. It’s a mistake, something the younger sorceress didn’t intend to do. But it sends a shock through Yennefer and she grips the underside of the bench she’s seated on. If an accident could get a reaction like that, what would an intentional touch do to her?

“We’ve had a slow day,” Triss says. “I never imagined I could actually experience something like this.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I was always on the go. Teleporting to meetings. Rushing to meet a monarch. Kissing asses of wizards more powerful than me. And at some point, finding time to eat and sleep.”

“It was exhausting. We deserve better.”

“Yes, we do,” Triss says. She’s staring at her and Yennefer doesn’t let her gaze waver. She folds her hands on the table to hide their tremble. There’s a challenge in those blue eyes and Yennefer struggles to uncover what the challenge is.

They finish their drinks and food and leave for Yennefer’s home. The crates of wine would be delivered soon and they need to be there when it arrived.

That evening, after the wine is delivered and stored, after they eat a hearty dinner and another bottle of wine is open, the pair go to the library and settle on the sofa. Triss’ legs swing over one of the arms, while her head rest inches from Yennefer’s legs. Her eyes are shut as Yennefer runs her hands through that fiery hair, using her nails to scratch the scalp. The older sorceress senses her friend wants to say something.

“You can ask your question Triss." 

The red-headed woman chuckles. “I was just going to ask if you’re seeing anyone. I mean, if you feel lonely, why not find someone to share a bed with?”

Yennefer takes a sip from her glass before answering. “It would only be a temporary relief. Besides after Geralt, I don’t know if I could handle another relationship.” She says this last word slow, unsure if that’s what she could call it. At times it felt that way. She was fond of the witcher, cared for him deeply over the twenty or so years they knew each other. She still felt an affection towards Geralt. They worked together to bring Ciri up into a beautiful, wonderful woman and when they were on good terms, everything was great.

But there were times where Yennefer felt like a placeholder. A warm body for the witcher to cling to in the night. And there was the influence of the djinn forcing them to always find their way back to each other. Now that the magic was lifted, Yennefer had time to think about things, to accept some hard truths about she and Geralt.

“I’m sorry Yen,” Triss says. She opens her eyes slightly and one of her hands falls over the edge of the sofa, hanging in the air near her empty wine glass. “I was selfish and envious. And confused. I…Geralt was kind to me. I misinterpreted what that meant.”

Yennefer knew of what happened. She heard it from Ciri. How Triss fell gravely ill while traveling with Geralt and Ciri. Ciri tried to help as much as she could, but Geralt assumed most of the responsibility of caring for the sorceress, going so far as to bathe her, hold her while she relieved her bladder, tuck her in to protect her against the cold.

“My heart was weak and yearned for something I couldn’t have,” Triss adds.

The older sorceress was unsure of what to say. She was finally getting the apology she thought she needed to move on. But she healed from her past with Geralt. He wasn’t perfect. Neither was she. They both had reason to blame the other for what happened. There break wasn’t clean, especially since he decided to try his luck with both Yennefer and Triss at the same time. But it had happened, and she didn’t want to return to it.

“You shouldn’t feel too guilty,” Yennefer says. “We all acted in ways that was unbecoming. Besides, witchers and sorceresses seem to have strange effects on each other.”

Triss chuckles. “Kiera and Lambert certainly prove that true.”

“They’re still a thing?”

“Yes, surprisingly.”

Yennefer hums and takes another sip from her glass. Triss scoots up on the sofa until her head rests against her friend’s thigh. Yennefer likes the contact, though it means she can’t run her hand through those red strands.

“They’re in love,” Triss says.

“Wonder what it took?”

“Well, what would it take for you?”

She glances down, smiling at Triss’ slightly tilted head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what would it take for you to fall in love?”

“Why? Plan on falling in love with me?” she teases.

Triss blushes and says, “Maybe.”

Yennefer is shocked but recovers quickly. “I know you’re joking,” she says with a laugh. Triss chuckles too but doesn’t respond. She sits up and leans against the arm rest, facing Yennefer. Her blue eyes are serious, but a smile ghosts across her face. The older sorceress swallows and ruffles her hair.

“Tell me Yen. Pretend a potential paramour waltzed in here and announced he was going to convince you to fall in love with him. What would he need to do? What’s the quickest way to your heart?”

“Make me laugh,” she finally admits. “They would need to say something that would cause me to laugh. Which given this chaotic world we live in is not an easy feat.” Geralt made her laugh. Not often, but enough times to keep her interested. Other lovers found different ways to please her in and out of the bedroom.

Triss sits with her ankles crossed and grips them, leaning forward. “Huh. I never would have guessed.” She nods to herself.

“And you?”

Triss rocks back. Her smile is sad and she looks out the window. “Show me kindness,” she says in a small voice. She thinks of something new and wiggles her brows. “And be an excellent kisser.”

Yennefer thinks about the Kingfisher and their brief kiss. Was that excellent? Yennefer thought so. But what about Triss? Was that why she alluded to it now? Yennefer looks down at her hands, trying to come to a decision. Triss shifts on the sofa until they’re next to each other. She leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of those lilac eyes. And when they lock eyes, Yennefer feels the breath in her lungs leave her.

She’s moving automatically, without thinking, leaning closer to her friend, tilting her head. Triss moves closer too, her blue eyes never leaving Yennefer’s face. They’re sharing the same air now. Their lips hover inches from each other. Triss waits for the other woman to move.

Yennefer’s heart pounds against her chest as she leans forward, brushing her lips against Triss’. Then they’re kissing, pulling each other close. Yennefer cups Triss’ cheek, her fingers wrapping around the back of her neck. The younger sorceress grasps her friend’s waist, opens her mouth and licks Yennefer’s lips, smiling as the kiss is deepened. Like their first kiss, Yennefer moans into Triss’ mouth.

It’s electrifying and Yennefer wants more. She wants to pull Triss upstairs to a bedroom and make love for the rest of the night. She wants to feel these soft lips on other parts of her body, kissing, sucking, licking whatever skin it came in contact with. She wants to know what it feels like to have Triss’ fingers inside her bringing her to orgasm. She tries to convey this through the kiss because she doesn’t want when they pull apart. She wants more and she wants Triss to know it.

They break for air and Triss brings their foreheads together, smiling. “Yeah, a kiss like that.”


	4. A Night Together

Yennefer grins as she’s walked back into the wall opposite the stairs. Triss places her hands on either side of the other woman and trails kisses down her neck, nipping at the skin. It makes the older sorceress delirious. Yennefer frees Triss’ hair from her usual ponytails and runs her hand through it, causing the woman to moan against her neck. It surprises her how dominate Triss is, but she has more experience with men and is more than willing to be guided.

Triss holds Yennefer’s waist and pulls her from the wall, pushing her down the hall. Yennefer realizes where they’re going.

“We can’t go to my bedroom,” she says.

“Why not?” Triss asks against her skin. She kisses down to her shoulder, pushes the corner of Yennefer’s blouse away with her nose and bites down on the area. Yennefer hits another wall and gasps as she’s spun around and pressed into the wood, while Triss pins her again. She bites her bottom lip before answering.

“There’s no bed.”

Triss pulls back. “No bed?”

“I…” Her face burns in embarrassment, but there’s no way to get around it. She doesn’t know where to start. But she loses her train of thought as fingers dance around her waist, to the bottom of her shirt, up and under the fabric touching warm skin. Triss brushes hair away from Yennefer’s face, kisses the back of her ear and bites the top.

“It’s hard to think…hmmm…with you doing that…”

Triss’ breath is warm against her skin. “Fight through it,” she commands. She bites down again, this time with more pressure and Yennefer jumps slightly. “Tell me what happened to your bed.”

Yennefer whimpers. “I tossed it.”

“Tossed it?”

A hand snakes down between the wall and Yennefer, skirting up her thigh, grazing her underwear. Yennefer gasps and grinds against the other woman. “Triss, please…”

“Please what?” Her fingers pull at the band and she smirks as Yennefer whimpers again.

“Stop teasing me.” She knows Triss can feel her desire, can feel the wetness ruining her panties and trailing down the inside of her thigh. She needs relief soon or she feels she may burst. She’s close to getting what she wants and yet Triss dangles it in the air, just out of Yennefer’s reach.

“Yenna I’ve thought about you, about being with you for years, well before Geralt came around,” she says. Her fingers glide over wet, sensitive skin. Yennefer’s moan is low and deep as she claws the wall. “I had to love you from a distance and it was complicated by Geralt and my feelings for him. Now I have a chance to show you how I feel, but you have no bed. Tell me Yenna why you tossed your bed. I want to know.”

Yennefer slams her palm against the wood and her moan is louder this time as two fingers slide slow down her slit. She takes a deep breath.

“I had a dream. You. Me. We were…intimate. When I woke, the bed was wet.”

“You climaxed while dreaming about me?”

Yennefer nods. Triss smirks and says, “Huh.” Then she pushes two fingers inside and Yennefer gives a silent cry, arching her back.

“Gods!”

“I haven’t even started Yenna.”

Yennefer sees white as the fingers push in and out, twisting inside of her with the right amount of pressure. Her moans and gasps fill the hall. She bucks her hips, matching the pace Triss set. Triss kisses her neck, the back of her ear, her shoulder, the back of her neck, before smiling against the pale skin.

“Oh, and don’t feel embarrassed about dreaming about me,” she whispers. “I think about you too when I’m alone.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

She feels her orgasm building in the pit of her stomach. She’s close. Only a few more pumps. She reaches blindly for Triss’ free hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Yes,” she says in between breaths. “I heard you…that first night.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? We could have started this a lot sooner.” She kisses Yennefer’s shoulder. “Actually, answer that after.” She slips in another finger, increases the pace and smiles at the earned low moan. “I want to know what you sound like when you come.”

Yennefer holds Triss’ fingers in a vice like grip and moans as the orgasm flows through her, forcing her to the tips of her toes. Triss pushes in and out, slowing before stilling completely as Yennefer collapses into the wall. She breathes through her mouth, sucking in air as she comes back down.

“Are you okay?” Triss asks, kissing the side of her neck.

Yennefer nods. “Yes, thank you. That was…”

“Lovely?”

She shivers as Triss pulls her fingers out. “Gods! I’d say it was phenomenal.”

“Hm…I wonder if I can top that.” She slips a finger in her mouth, sucking it clean off. “You taste wonderful.” She sucks another finger and offers the last one to Yennefer, who puts it in her mouth and licks up her own juices. Triss gives the other woman enough space to spin to face her and they kiss. Yennefer wraps her arms around Triss’ neck.

“You’ve always wanted to be with me?” she asks.

Triss studies her and nods. “I just didn’t know what to say to you. And there was always someone else who caught your attention. I thought my feelings would go away after a while. But somehow, they just grew stronger.”

Yennefer smiles as she absorbs this. Everything comes into its season eventually, Tissaia used to say. Maybe it was now the time for her and Triss to figure things out, build something together.

“Did you really throw out a bed? Again?”

“Yes,” she says chuckling. “Both times because of you.”

Triss laughs and kisses the spot where Yennefer’s shoulder meets her neck. “I promise not to cause you to throw out another one.” Her hands start to roam, tugging at loose fabric, searching for an opening. She pulls them away from the wall and into the room she sleeps in, walking Yennefer backwards until her knees hit top of the bed.

Yennefer pulls them down onto the bed, crawling back on her hands until they’re at the top. She leans in for a kiss, but Triss rocks back, a devilish smile on her face. Her hands grab Yennefer’s thighs, trail up to her knees and pushes them apart. The young sorceress settles in the space, grinding her hips into Yennefer, who makes an “o” with her mouth, before flopping her head back on the pillows. Triss hovers over her, letting her red hair fall over her shoulder. She leans forward and Yennefer’s hands fly to Triss’ waist.

“Yenna, tell me what you want,” the younger sorceress says slow. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

This pierces through the lusty fog in her mind. She wants Triss to enjoy too, to not feel like she has to overstretch herself to keep Yennefer satisfied. She reaches one hand up and cups Triss’ face, forcing them to look into each other’s eyes. 

“I want to come and I want you to come. I want us to make love well into the night. And when we’re done, I want to hear everything you tried to say to me before. I want to listen to you.” Triss ducks her head, but Yennefer cups her chin and lifts. “It’s okay Triss,” she whispers.

When they kiss this time, it’s slow, more exploratory, but the heat is still there. Triss starts to unbutton Yennefer’s blouse, but freezes when Yennefer tries to do the same. The scars, the older sorceress thinks. She whispers again that it would be okay. But Triss pulls away, sitting on her knees and fidgets with the bottom of her blouse. Her blue eyes focus on a spot on the quilt. 

“It’s been years since Sodden,” she says. “I’m healed, but there’s still scarring. It’s faint but…”

Yennefer shifts to her elbows. “Let me see.” It’s soft, far from a command. A gentle suggestion. She keeps a steady gaze as Triss grips her blouse and pulls it off. Yennefer can see it, faint markings along healed skin. They stretched down her breasts, partially hidden by her green bra, before continuing to her stomach.

Of course, she saw these same scars at the Kingfisher Inn. But Yennefer was preoccupied by their plan, she barely registered it. Now, she had time to admire Triss’ body, even the parts the woman didn’t like to flaunt.

Triss goes to cover herself, when the other woman stays silent. But Yennefer reaches for her wrists, stilling her motion. “Don’t” she whispers. “Don’t cover up.” She sits up, hugs Triss and kisses her neck, moving down to her collarbone, then the top of her cleavage. Finally, the red-headed sorceress begins to relax, gasping as the hooks in her bra are unclasped and Yennefer pulls the garment away.

The older woman’s mouth waters at the sight of Triss’ breast. Without much thought, she cups one, kisses it and takes the nipple into her mouth.

“Yenna…”

It’s the sound that started everything and it encourages Yennefer to push things further. Soon, Triss is on her back, the muscles in her stomach fluttering as kisses are trailed down, stopping just at the top of her pants. Yennefer’s nearly yanks the tight fitting pants off, flinging them in a corner of the room.

Triss lifts her hips, sliding her panties off and she’s stark naked on the bed. Yennefer admires the woman underneath her. She always believed the red-headed woman was beautiful. But seeing her naked body was something Yennefer could never imagine. And it wasn’t just her voluptuous curves or the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders that made Triss beautiful. It was the scars on her breast and stomach, a physical reminder of the sacrifices she made on Soddon Hill. And it was the small mole just above the start of her thigh. There were tiny “imperfections” and Yennefer wanted to discover them all. She wished to kiss every scar Triss wished to hide.

The older woman runs a hand along Triss’ thigh and smirks, before settling on her stomach, her face in between the other woman’s legs. She blows a puff of warm air and Triss curses.

“Fuck, Yenna,” she drawls.

Yennefer places Triss’ thighs on her shoulders, takes a moment to gaze at the two wet lips, glistening from the red-head’s desire. Using two fingers to pull the lips apart, Yennefer finds the clit and takes it in her mouth, flicking her tongue against it. Triss’ hands go to Yennefer’s black curls and her heels dig into her back.

Triss is vocal, her voice lifting into the air as she pleads for Yennefer to keep going. She’s by far the most vocal lover Yennefer has ever slept with. She grows confident, humming against Triss, causing the other woman to shudder with ecstasy.

“Yenna…”

She smiles as she feels the inside of Triss’ thighs tremble. But she’s forced to come up for air. She uses a thumb and rubs small circles on the clit. Yennefer crawls up and watches carefully as Triss experiences her first orgasm. Her words flow together, and her eyes are shut tight. Yennefer memorizes this moment, burning it into her mind. 

Triss’ toes curl tight, then relax as she gulps in a breath. Her head rolls over and her grin is goofy. Yennefer kisses her on the lips, before settling into the crook of her neck and Triss swings an arm over to hug her.

Once she’s caught her breath, Triss says, “You’re still dressed.”

Yennefer hums and snuggles closer. “I was waiting for you to strip me,” she teases.

“You distracted me.”

“I’m not now.”

Triss plants kisses along Yennefer’s jaw and down her neck as she moves, shifting onto her hands and knees. She swings one leg over to the other side, planting her knee firmly into the mattress. Yennefer shuts her eyes, rolling her head back to give the other woman more access to her neck. Triss unbuttons the remaining blouse buttons, pushing the sides open and exposing Yennefer’s breasts and stomach. Then she loosens the belt, throwing it on the floor. Triss’ mouth kisses down to the visible cleavage.

“I’ve always loved your perfume,” she whispers.

Yennefer runs her tongue along her top lip and she lifts her hips so Triss can pull her skirt off. Then she reaches down and pushes on Triss’ lower stomach until the woman climbs off, her brows knitted in confusion and worry lines digging into her forehead.

“W-what’s wrong?” she stammers, clenching her fist. But Yennefer kisses her to calm her and rolls onto her stomach, kicking her legs into the air.

She flips her hair away from her face and looks over her shoulder. “Nothing,” she says. “Just wanted to make it a bit easier for you to take off my bra.” Triss’ jaw hinges open and she doesn’t move until Yennefer uses a finger to beckon the red-head over.

Triss sits on the back of Yennefer’s thighs. One hand grips the older sorceress’ waist, while the other unhooks the bra and runs along the spine. Yennefer shivers and she shifts her hips back into Triss’ crotch. Two fingers are hooked into either side of Yennefer’s panties. She looks over her shoulder and smiles when she sees Triss staring back at her. She shifts her hips again, lifting them slightly and her panties are pulled away.

“Yenna, do you trust me?” she asks. “I want to try something. But only if you’re okay with it.”

“What is it Triss?”

The red-head woman climbs off the bed, crosses the room to her trunk. Yennefer rests her chin on her forearms and watches as the other woman rifles among her clothes, potions (which she should store somewhere else, but now was not the time for Yennefer to bring that up) and other items, finding what she was searching for near the bottom. Triss stands quickly, her hands flying behind her and she shuffles back to the foot of the bed. Yennefer reaches for her, brushing her hand along her thigh.

“I found this shop years ago with different types of sexual paraphernalia,” Triss says. “I was intrigued and browsed. And I purchased this.” She pulls from behind her leather straps intricately connected together with metal loops, with one large silver ring in the middle and a phallus made of soft, smooth leather. It’s thick, about the width of three fingers.

Yennefer looks up, smirking. “You just happened to ‘find’ this shop?”

“With the aid of Philippa,” Triss says, with an eye roll. She sighs and goes serious. “Is it okay? I’ll understand if you don’t want to. If it’s too much, too soon.”

Yennefer touches the leather, surprised at its softness, how her fingers glide easily down the shaft. She glances up again, smiles and nods. Triss releases a slow breath. She steps into the straps, securing them around her waist and places the phallus in the large ring. She goes back to her trunk, pulls out a vial of clear liquid, unstoppers it and pours a small dollop on the tip of the phallus, spreading it along the shaft. Yennefer finds that the sight arouses her and she wants to slip her hand between her legs to relieve some of the ache. But Triss is on the bed again, her hand resting on Yennefer’s hip. The phallus’ tip presses against her entrance.

Yennefer’s forehead pushes into the bed as Triss thrusts the phallus inside, filling her. The younger sorceress waits, allowing Yennefer to adjust to the girth. Then she pulls the phallus out, leaving the head in and thrusts again. Yennefer moans.

“Triss, keep going,” she says. “Please.”

They start slow, Triss sliding the phallus in and out at a steady pace. She holds Yennefer’s waist with one hand, keeping her in place on the bed. Her other hand is planted firmly on the bed, keeping her steady as her hips swung back and forth. Triss leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss in the middle of Yennefer’s spine and the other woman reachs back to grasp her head. Yennefer’s leg kicks up as Triss’ thrust is deep.

“Yes Yenna?”

Yennefer gasps and bites her bottom lip. The pleasure she feels is beyond anything she experienced before with another lover. She struggles to speak, to catch her breath, to even keep her eyes open. Her body is like a raging flame, burning with desire wherever Triss touches her.

Triss kisses the back of her ear and Yennefer gulps.

“Stay here,” she whispers. “Stay close.”

She hears Triss smile and adjust so her breasts are pressed into Yennefer’s back. Triss’ hand covers Yennefer’s tightly closed one.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Yennefer feels it building as Triss thrusts deeper causing the phallus to rub against every inch of her walls. Her toes flex and relax, flex, relax and she bites down on the quilt.

“Triss, I’m…” But she fails to finish her sentence. The pleasure overwhelms her. She sees white again. Feels her lover’s body against her own. Feels the moisture between them, a mixture of sweat, lubricant and their bodies natural juices.

This is what she wants, she tells herself. This pleasure. This intoxication. This sensation of being truly loved. After Geralt, Yennefer never imagined she could return to this, get close to this. But Triss gives it freely. It’s more than lust, far from love (for now), it exists somewhere between waiting for the two women to uncover it.

“Gods I’m…”

Triss continues to thrust deep, but the rhythm is faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin almost drowning out Yennefer’s moans.

“That’s it Yenna. I want you to come for me.”

She loves this side of Triss, a confidence that begs for compliance. She wants to see more of it, experience more of it as they discover whatever this is between them. Yennefer wants to give into her wishes and climax for her lover.

“Fuck,” she yells. Then she feels it. It starts at the pit of her stomach, working its way closer and closer with each thrust.

“You’re close Yenna. Show me.”

Yennefer comes undone, her eyes squeezing shut and her legs thrashing in the air. She feels something squirt out from between her legs. Triss gasps, caught off guard by it, this new response.

Black hair sticks to Yennefer’s shoulders and back. She sucks in the air, recovering slowly. Triss pulls the phallus out completely and smirks. The spot underneath Yennefer is soaked. She experienced a reaction like this before and it always surprises her. Some of her lovers were creeped out, crawling away from her fast while they grimaced. Others pretended nothing had happened, that the extra wetness was always there.

But Triss…

“That was beautiful,” she breaths.

Yennefer chuckles, her voice hoarse and dry. Her legs feel like rubber and she struggles to turn over. She rolls over to her side, her face and chest still flush from sex. Triss flops down in the space next to her, a huge grin on her face. The phallus stands erect, even more lustrous from Yennefer’s wetness and orgasm.

“To think,” Yennefer says through deep breaths, “I actually have reason to feel indebted to Philippa Eilhart.”

Triss chuckles and plays with the tips of Yennefer’s fingers. “I’m sure she’d _love _to know about this. Gods the gossip she would start.”

“I could only imagine and the others would eat it up.”

Triss hums and scoots closer. She rubs Yennefer’s shoulder and kisses her nose. She smiles, then leans in for a kiss.

When they pull apart, Yennefer cups Triss’ face and runs her thumb along the young woman’s bottom lip. She stares into those cornflower blue eyes, amazed at the love burrowed deep. How often did she turn away from Triss, missing the love and devotion that she wanted to share? How much heartbreak could she have saved herself if she had given Triss a chance years ago? And none of this would have come out if Triss hadn’t gotten caught in the snowstorm. If Yennefer never woke that first night and heard her name comes from Triss’ mouth in a moment of passion and pleasure, she wouldn’t have kissed her friend or been willing to lay with her tonight.

Yennefer brings their foreheads together and smiles as Triss shuts her eyes. Yennefer wants to stay like this for the rest of the night, enveloped in a warm love that feels like honey on the lips. She wants to make love for hours and hours, pushing her mind and body past exhaustion as she and Triss experience orgasm after orgasm. She wants to find every sensitive part on Triss’ body and share her sensitive parts with the other woman. She has taken a new lover and it leaves her breathless and her body on fire.

Triss leans in for a kiss, whispering, “Yenna” just before they lips touch. It sounds like the sweetest song from the lips of a barb. And Yennefer loves it.


	5. Early Morning Glow

The small fire bathes the bedroom in a soft, warm orange glow. Triss sits up in bed, a leg pulled up to her chest, facing the fire. Yennefer lays on her side, facing the other woman, trailing a lone finger along the pale skin just above Triss’ hip. It’s more exploratory than sexual, something Yennefer does absentmindedly as she fights off sleep. The leather phallus stands on a nightstand, waiting to be used again.

After they caught their breath, Yennefer wore the phallus and brought Triss to orgasm. It was powerful, overwhelming the young sorceress so much that some of her magic spilled out as small flames on her fingers, scorching Yennefer’s skin.

The covers pools around Yennefer’s waist, exposing the rest of her body to the air. Triss looks at the small, maroon mark on the otherwise flawless skin and frowns. Yennefer noticed and lays her hand flat on the woman’s hip.

“I’m fine,” Yennefer says. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

Triss looks away. “Still, I hate that it happened.”

“It was an accident.”

Triss doesn’t say anything and balls her hand into a fist. “I’ve never had that happen before,” she whispers.

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The younger woman smiles, though it’s small. But it was the effect Yennefer wanted. She sits up and throws her arms around Triss, hugging them close and kisses the top of her head. Triss melts into the embrace, resting her head under Yennefer’s chin.

“And it just means we’ll have to work to control your responses,” Yennefer adds.

“Hm…I think I’d enjoy that.”

“Good.”

They sit in silence for a while, watching the flames in the fireplace. Eventually Yennefer shifts to slide down further and Triss curls into her, wrapping a leg over her waist. Yennefer feels herself start to drift off. She’s exhausted, completely spent from the hours of making love. She yawns and Triss pulls the covers up on their bodies.

Yennefer wonders what will come after. What will she say to Triss? What will the other woman say in return? Could they make a life here in Vengerberg? Would Triss be willing to stay here? This city was certainly safer than Novigrad, even if the Church’s influence was waning after the death of Radovid. But would it be to far to ask Triss to completely uproot her life after their night of passion?

She looks down, hearing soft snoring. Triss’ eyes are shut, her face relaxed, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Whatever conversation they need to have would wait until the morning. She hugs the other woman closer to her, smiling as she murmurs in her sleep.

This was dangerous, Yennefer tells herself and yet she can’t help but let her guard down. She has grown so tired over the years. Always being suspicious. Always suspecting the worse in people, even if she was proven right more times than not. It drained her and she couldn’t bring herself to rebuild her walls.

Plus, like she told Triss, Yennefer was sometimes lonely. Sometimes she missed the sound of someone greeting her in the morning or peeking over her shoulder while she worked. She missed feeling a fondness for another. And she certainly missed passionate love under the covers at night. Triss could give her these things and there was a part of her that wanted that.

Now that she had come down from the high of experiencing the warmth and passion of another, Yennefer’s mind was clear to wander. She fell asleep, turning over and tucking herself under Triss’ arms. When she felt the other woman stir behind her, she smiled in her sleep. And in the morning, when the first of the sunlight shone through the window, touching half of Triss’ face, Yennefer feels she had come to a decision.

Careful as to not wake the other woman, Yennefer climbs out of bed and slips into her room to dress in a long chemise.

It would be a lazy day, she decides as she descends the stairs and goes into the kitchen to begin breakfast. Nearly an hour passes before Triss appears, dragging herself into the room.

“Morning Yennefer,” she said, her voice still laced with sleep.

“Morning.”

Triss is dressed too, donning simple shorts and a shirt. Yennefer notices she has forgone a bra. The younger woman seems uncertain of what to do, watching from the doorway as Yennefer finishes their breakfast. She even seems embarrassed, her cheeks tinged with a light shade of pink. She rubs her hands together, then brings one to the back of her neck, lifting her shirt and giving Yennefer a glimpse of her toned stomach.

The raven-haired woman pours a cup of coffee and hands it to Triss, kissing her square on the lips as she passes the cup. “Come sit,” she said. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“R-right.” She takes a sit at the central counter while Yennefer puts the final touches on their meal. The older woman feels eyes on her while she works and she smiles. Seems there’s an innocence to this crush, she thinks as she plates their food.

Triss touches Yennefer’s wrist as the plate is set before her. “Yen, I…” She looks everywhere but those lilac eyes. “Last night was incredible and more than I deserved. I don’t want to make this awkward. But I…I’ll understand if last night was a one-time affair.”

Yennefer bites back a smile. They would need to work on this, she thinks. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear,” she says. She hates that Triss starts to deflate before her. Hates that the younger woman believes one night with Yennefer was all she deserved. She caresses Triss’ cheek, then kisses her, this time with more passion, until they’re both in need of air.

“Is that clearer?” she asks.

Triss touches her own lips and nods. “Y-yeah.”

“Good. Now eat before your food gets cold.” She goes back to the other plate on the counter, adding an extra sway to her hips as she walks.

When they finish, Triss clears away their dishes and starts to wash them. Yennefer takes a sip from her coffee and rests her cheek in her palm, watching.

“Why so bashful this morning?”

Triss jumps, dropping the plate in her hand and brings a hand to her chest. “I’m not bashful,” she says, turning away. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important.”

“It’s important to me,” Yennefer says.

Triss faces her now, biting her bottom lip, before looking out the window. Her hand wraps around the counter. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. Yennefer stands and comes over, sweeping a hand down Triss’ back, smiling as the woman shivers in response.

“I don’t want you to go back to Novigrad,” she whispers. She gives Triss an opening.

“For now or…”

“I don’t know,” Yennefer says. “We can figure it out.” She reaches for Triss’ hand, loosening her hold on the counter and lacing their fingers together. “But if you have any doubts about my feelings this morning, I want to dispel them.”

Yennefer cups the back of Triss’ neck and pulls her in. Their lips brush together before connecting in a deep kiss. Their tongues explore each other’s mouths and Triss holds the other woman by the waist, pushing her into the counter behind them. When they break apart, Yennefer brings their foreheads together, smiling wide.

“And you have things to tell me Triss Merigold,” she teases.

Triss ducks her head and smiles. “I’m nervous to say them.”

“Don’t be,” Yennefer whispers. She brushes her nose against Triss’ and leans away when the other woman goes in for the kiss. “It’s just me and you around. And I’m ready to listen.”

Her heart beats wildly in her chest as Triss stares into her eyes. Yennefer understands how difficult this, whatever it is, will be for them. They’re bringing baggage, emotional pain from past relationships, some they’ve even inflicted on the other as they sought to keep Geralt’s attention. It would be messy, unpacking everything, laying their feelings and vulnerabilities out to examine together.

But, as Triss tucks a strand of raven hair behind her ear, Yennefer realizes she wants to give this a shot. It may last for a few days or a few weeks. Maybe even decades. She doesn’t know. But she knows she doesn’t want to let the younger woman go just yet.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Triss says, a smile spreading across her face. “But first, can you do something for me?”

Yennefer raises an eyebrow. “Depends,” she says. Then adds, “What do you need?”

Triss kisses her neck, biting the skin and says, “Let me see what you look like in the daylight.”

They go to the library, laughing and kissing and peeling what little clothes they wear off each other, leaving a trail in the hallway. Yennefer doesn’t frown at the mess. She barely notices it. Instead she focuses on the woman in her arms, the feel of her warm breath on her skin, the kisses that both satisfy and make her crave more. She looks at the fiery red hair that’s like a waterfall on Triss’ shoulder and the faint scars that run and curve along her breast. She closes her eyes as they kiss, a million questions and promises running silently between them as their lips meet.

Then she hears it. The softest moan. The sound that led them here, that forced them to acknowledge the thing between them, the sound that tore at Yennefer’s sense of loneliness.

“Yenna…”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing about this pair! I absolutely adore them together. This story will likely have a sequel where I go further into their budding relationship and how they can build something that lasts, despite their rocky history. Anyway, I hope you enjoy 'A Visit to Vengerberg'!


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